While I was young and foolish yet,
My Lord, in His compassion let
Me hold one, precious to His heart,
Through whom he wanted to impart
His truths, His depths of love to me,
And I, in awkward infancy
Received His gift as just a toy,
A thing to please me, give me joy
And with my plenty store away,
Assured that since my Lord delay
He surely would not come to claim
What I possessed--but oh! He came
To ask of me the cherished prize,
The one beloved in His eyes
And now in mine as well; and I
In anguished vanity did cry
Aloud, and pull away to clutch
The treasure close; my jealous touch
Compressed to shattered fragments more
Than human hands can e'er restore.
Yet what forgiveness mingled in
My Lord's sad gaze upon my sin.
(Unpublished)
No comments:
Post a Comment